


maybe, maybe, maybe

by lahtays



Category: The Wayhaven Chronicles (Interactive Fiction)
Genre: Angst, Bi Detective, Car breakdown, F/F, Jealousy, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Sharing Clothes, ava said i cant admit my feelings and that's everybody else's problem, im gonna write something happy after this i swear, triss said this sign WILL stop me because i CAN read
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:42:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24439894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lahtays/pseuds/lahtays
Summary: With the painful memory of Ava and Nate’s overheard conversation on her mind, Triss declines Ava's offer to drive her home following the contagion emergency with Bobby.As it turns out, driving home during a storm at midnight isn't one of her greatest ideas.
Relationships: Detective/Ava du Mortain, Female Detective/Ava du Mortain, Female Detective/Bobby Marks
Comments: 13
Kudos: 148





	maybe, maybe, maybe

On the highway just outside the outskirts of town, Triss's car finally opts for a quiet, unceremonious death. 

The relentless onslaught of rain against the windshield drowns out the white noise of a pop song on the radio, but somehow still the hatchback feels quieter and lonelier than it ever has before. Pulled over to the side of the asphalt, she twists the key in the ignition once more, willing her engine back to life. With every feeble protest of its dying parts, the car's walls only seem to close further and further around her, trapping her in with her own unyielding thoughts. 

Another two minutes of desperation pass before she finally hurls her keys at the passenger seat, gripping the steering wheel like a lifeline as she struggles to blink back tears. With stiff motions, one hand reaches for her speaker’s volume dial, hoping to drown out reality with the monotony of saccharine, artificial vocals. Even with the volume blaring, all she can hear through the channel's static is the memories of Bobby's laboured breathing, of her own screams when the man in the mirror put his hands on her. 

And then, louder still, the memory of Nate and Ava's voices playing over and over in her head like an alarm, as violent and merciless as the storm she's found herself in now. 

_“Feelings you assume I have would be too dangerous to pursue, considering what we do. What we are.”_

_“But do you have those feelings?”_

_“No. I do not.”_

She swallows down a sob, and then chokes on it as it forces its way up anyway. She snaps her hand to her mouth, squeezing her eyes shut and taking a deep, ragged breath. _Don’t cry_ , she thinks as her mind conjures up unwanted thoughts of grey coats and carousel rides and a blonde woman's secret smile. _You're just tired. Stressed. Alone, and rejected. Again._

Outside, the storm rages on in the dark. 

_Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry._

A loud buzz makes her startle just as soon as she feels the tightness in her throat beginning to ease. Swallowing hard, Triss looks to the passenger seat, lit up by the glow of her smartphone and Ava's incoming call. 

Her heart beats painfully in her chest as she watches the call ring out. 

It's better for both of them this way. 

When the ringtone finally fades out entirely, screen blinking back into standby mode, Triss resigns to turns her car off altogether. The silence swells larger and more pronounced around her, and with a sigh, she steels herself before grabbing her phone and pushing open the car door, stepping out into the night. _It could always be worse,_ she thinks miserably. _At least I still have signal._

Torrential rain belts down upon her as she runs to prop open the hood of the car. The engine smokes menacingly, its dry heat contrasting with the icy bite of each raindrop soaking into the thin cotton of her blouse. It makes sense, she notes, that tonight of all nights happens to _also_ be the one time she forgets her jacket at home. Just the thought of its familiar warmth makes her shiver harder. 

“Come on, Maddox. You’re fine. You've got this.” 

Surprisingly, speaking the words aloud doesn't actually make them true, but hearing a voice – even one as uncertain as her own – makes it easier to ignore the consist pangs of heartache gnawing at her insides. 

_“But do you have those feelings?”_

_“No. I do not.”_

_Somewhat_ easier, at least. 

She grits her teeth. Tina had taught her a thing or two about cars back in the day – Bobby had offered once, but he seemed to favour patronizing her over imparting anything resembling actual wisdom. She works to recall the vague lessons now as her eyes sweep over the canisters and tubes and well-oiled mechanics, fumbling for her phone's flashlight in the dark. Her vision halts at the oil compartment, and with uncertain fingers she reaches for the cap to investigate. 

“Fuck!” 

She snatches her hand away from the red hot heat of the container, her wet skin hissing upon contact. Her singed finger throbs in protest, and she hears herself swear again for good measure. She won’t be investigating _anything_ with a temperature like that, and judging by the unhealthy smell permeating her senses even in spite of the rain, she doubts her meddling will yield any of the convenient quick fixes she's hoping for. 

Her phone vibrates in her hand. Ava again. Triss feels her face crumple as she takes in the glow of the imageless caller ID, holding her breath until the buzz once again fades to silence. 

If she were smarter, she would answer. Swallow her pride and her hurt and just ask the commanding agent for help. And she _would_ help, Triss knows. She would drive down and pick her up the moment Triss resigned to call. She would berate her foolishness, and admonish her, and then ask if she were okay and insist that Triss never hesitate to call on her for anything ever again. 

And then she would look at her the way she always does, like there's no locked up part of Triss that she can't see in its entirety, and her jaw would clench and her body would go rigid and still and Triss would look down at her parted lips and think _Maybe she does care. Maybe there's something. Maybe this time . . ._

_“No. I do not.”_

She shakes her head, droplets of rain flying about her face with the motion. There are no more _maybes_ in this equation; she got her answer tonight at the station, muffled through the glass but still clearer than any sign Ava has given her thus far. 

She isn't interested, and that's fine. Bobby is sick and alone at the facility, but he's fine. Men hunt her in mirrors, and her dreams of Murphy still leave her sweating and shaking in her bed every night, and _nobody_ knows, and nobody will _ever_ know, because knowing something implies the telling of it, and her mother never taught her how to do that. But she's fine. 

Everything is fine. 

_Don't cry._

The chill is beginning to ache now, seeping from her fabric and down into her bones. With a defeated sniffle she slams the bonnet back down, wiping tears and strands of soaking hair out of her eyes and making her awkward retreat back to the shelter of her car. The rain shows no signs of relenting, and her clothes already stick to her body like a soaked second skin. With trembling fingers, she cradles her phone in her hands, staring into it's cracked screen as if her reflection might by some miracle deign to take pity on her. 

Her mind sorts through potential rescuers, but her choices are hardly numerous. Her mother is an option, but she's dismissed a moment later. Rebecca will have her hands full after tonight, and she would only end up handing over the matter to Ava regardless. Tina will be asleep right now. Verda, perhaps . . . but no. Verda would ask too many questions, and wouldn't accept Triss’s atrocious lack of answers. 

Farah can't drive, Mason _won't_ , but Nate . . . Triss's fingers struggle at her keypad, typing out his name until the number filters through her contacts. She hits call and presses the phone to her ear, taking a deep, calming breath as she does so. 

A familiar, comforting voice picks up after the second ring. “Triss?” 

“Hey, stranger!” Triss forces her best and brightest smile, and fights to keep her teeth from chattering. “Miss me?” 

“Longest thirty minutes of my life,” Nate replies. She can hear his answering smile on the other end. “What can I do for you? Is everything alright?” 

“I - yeah. Yeah, no issues,” Triss winces. 

“But . . .?” 

“You wouldn't happen to be free right now, by any chance?” 

There’s a pause, and then Nate makes an awkward, apologetic ‘ah' sound. Triss deflates. 

“I'm afraid Agent Maddox has got the team on paperwork duty after tonight's . . . excitement,” he explains gently. “We may be stuck with it for quite some time.” 

“You say that as if you don't secretly _enjoy_ paperwork duty,” she laughs weakly, feeling tears prickling at the back of her eyes once more. 

“Well, it _can_ be rather thrilling.” Another pause. “Are you sure everything's alright, Triss? You're breaking up a little. I know Ava has already finished her reports for the night, and she mentioned calling to see if you got home safely, anyway. I could pass the message on to –“ 

“No,” Triss says quickly, clearing her throat. “No, no, that's fine, Nate. Thanks. I just . . . I can't find my jacket. I called to ask if you'd seen it lying around anywhere. It's my favourite, that's all.” 

“I . . . see.” His tone sounds unconvinced, but accepting nonetheless. “Well, I'll be sure to look for it and let you know if it turns up.” 

“Thanks, Nate.” 

“Of course, don't mention it. Take care of yourself, Triss.” 

“You too. Night.” 

“Goodnight.” 

The call ends and it's just her again, alone with only her thoughts and the sound of rain against metal to drown out the silence. Her hands are starting to go numb. 

“Christ . . .” 

She's resolved to call the volunteer at the station when her phone goes off for the third time. She doesn't have to look at the screen to know who it is; the cosmic joke is far too funny for it to be anyone else. 

Her stare off with Ava's empty profile picture lasts until the fourth ring, when Triss finally accepts her fate - and the call - with a sigh. 

“Hey, Ava.” 

“Beatrice?” The voice on the other line sounds both parts shocked and relieved that Triss picked up. Her eyes close instinctively at the sound of her name on the other woman's lips. “Detective . . . I tried to call.” 

“I know, I'm sorry,I was just . . . I'm sorry.” 

“There is no need to apologize,” Ava replies, and her frown may as well be audible. “It's – it's no matter. I was merely checking to see that you had encountered no further problems at home.” 

“Oh. Right.” 

Ava must hear the lump in the back of her throat, because she pauses, going silent for so long that Triss has to check her phone to see if the call has cut out. “Ava? Are you still -" 

“Something's wrong.” Ava's tone shifts from concern to alarm near instantly. “What happened? Are you alright?” 

Triss feels her lip quiver, and has to force a smile just to keep her face from crumpling. She looks out into the night, watches the wind howling through the uncut fields bordering the highway, and tries to keep the perceived warmth in Ava's words from spreading through the phone and soaking into her veins. 

“I . . . I need your help. Again. I'm sorry.” 

Ava inhales roughly. “Tell me what you need me to do.” 

“My car broke down. I'm on the highway. Can you -" Triss cuts off as her breath catches in her throat. “Can you pick me up?” 

“Your car broke down? Detective, _this_ is exactly why I offered to -" 

“Ava, _please_.” She hates the way her voice breaks around her name, but she's so tired, so damn tired in every sense of the word, and even one more faux smile might just be enough to break her right now. “Can – can you please just come get me?” 

A beat passes between them, unnerving enough to feel like minutes. “Of course,” Ava says, soft and strained in tandem. “Stay exactly where you are. I will be there shortly. Are you safe by your car until I get there?” 

“Yeah, I’m safe. Ava?” 

“What is it?” 

“Thanks.” 

“I . . . I will be there shortly. Stay put.” 

The call clicks off, and Triss curls up against the car seat, resting her head against the glass and letting out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. 

* 

For all her faults, Ava du Mortain does _not_ exaggerate. It must be less than ten minutes before Triss spots her headlights in the distant dark; a sight which suggests she must have broken at least half dozen traffic laws in order to make such impressive time. If Triss wasn't so tired, so stressed, so defeated, she definitely would have laughed. 

She steps out of her own car just as Ava's SUV nears the makeshift parking spot, flinching as the brisk wind bites at her damp skin. Ava's tyres squeak as they comes to an abrupt halt before her and, illuminated by the light of the interior dash, Triss catches a glimpse at her expression. Anxious shadows play upon her features as she observes the dishevelled state of the brunette before her, but she seems to relax just a little when Triss greets her with small smile. 

She reaches forward to push open the passenger door, then waves her over with a frown. “Get in.” 

Triss gets in. 

“Were you standing out in the rain this whole time?” Ava asks, voice tense as Triss awkwardly settles into her seat, trying without much luck to avoid her wet clothes squeaking against the leather. 

“Not the _whole_ time.” She attempts a rueful smile, which must look more like a grimace. “I thought I could fix it, or at least see what happened to it in the first place.” 

“And _did_ you discover what happened?” 

“No, but I got a nice little consolation prize for my efforts,” she sighs, holding out her burnt index finger. 

She's scarcely held her digits out for longer than a second before Ava moves to claim them, fingers wrapping around her own and leaning forwards slightly to inspect the injury. Triss makes to pull back on instinct, cheeks flushing despite the chill, but Ava’s hold is persistent, and her frown as she gazes down at the miniscule burn suggests she's deep in thought. 

“I'm fine,” Triss says nervously. “It's really not that bad.” 

Ava's brows furrow, but she relents with a short nod of agreement, freeing Triss from her entwining fingers. “You should put some ice to it as soon as you get home. With any luck, any pain should be negligible come morning,” she murmurs. 

“Sure. I'll do that, then.” The very mention of ice has her wrapping her arms around herself to fight off another round of nagging, aching chill. _Fifteen minutes, tops,_ she thinks, clinging to the estimation like a life raft. _Fifteen minutes, and then a dry house, a hot shower, and a warm bed._

_Just fifteen minutes with Ava. Easy. Not a problem._

“You must be cold,” Ava says. Darkened green eyes bore into her, too intense to hide away from. 

“No, no, I'm alright.” 

“You. . . you're shivering, detective.” 

Triss looks at her, then down at her trembling hands pressed between her thighs. “I – yeah,” she says, hoping Ava can't hear her teeth chatter. “But it's okay. I just left my jacket at home, is all. Murphy's law, right?” 

She isn't surprised when Ava ignores her attempt at light-heartedness, but she _does_ double take when the vampire begins to shrug out of her coat, removing the grey fabric in a single swift motion that still manages to be graceful, even in spite of the awkward position. 

“Put this on.” 

“Ava, I'm fine, that really isn't neccesary. I’m all damp from the rain, and I smell like a wet dog, and -" 

“ _Beatrice_.” Ava looks at her sharply, though her brow is creased with something unreadable. “Your politeness is not worth getting sick over. I could care less if it gets wet. Please. Humour me, if nothing else.” She nods again at the bunched up fabric in her grip, and Triss purses her lips. 

She knows better by now to think she's getting the upper hand in this. Begrudgingly, she accepts the oversized coat with a nod. “If you say so. Thank you. Really.” 

Ava shrugs off the thanks and starts her car wordlessly, pulling back out onto the highway so smoothly that Triss doesn't realize they're driving until after she's lifted her ruined blouse over her head. The one ray of silver in this thundercloud is that she at least had the good sense to wear a singlet today, even if it its white cotton is near translucent from the rain. 

Ava’s eyes flicker over at the motion in her periphery, and then widen substantially. She turns her head back to the road sharply, her slender hands tightening and tensing against the wheel. “What are you doing?” she asks, her voice an octave higher than usual. 

“Sorry, just – the shirt is drenched. Sort of defeats the purpose of your coat if there's a layer of cold water between me and it.” 

“I – right. I see.” 

Ava manages a curt nod, and Triss frowns, casting her eyes away as she focuses on struggling into the coat. The calming effect is instant, and she feels her shoulders relaxing around the warm, soft material surrounding her. _No wonder Ava likes this coat so much,_ she thinks idly. 

It smells like her, too. Familiar and strong and all too pleasant. That thought - and all the thoughts that follow it - is a lot less comforting than it would have been just a few hours ago. Triss hopes Ava can't hear her heartbeat stuttering with each reluctant inhale. 

The minutes pass by in an achingly tangible silence. If Ava feels the tension in the air, if she _cares_ , Triss can't be certain. With her forearm resting against the window, Triss works to keep her eyes on the road before her, cringing internally every time her gaze begins to inevitably drift. Whatever reassurances her foolish heart is looking for, she _knows_ she won't be finding with Ava du Mortain. Not tonight, or ever. That thought hurts less now, at least, with the warmth of the coat and the waves of fatigue finally beginning to lull her into some semblance of acceptance. 

She'll be better after tonight; won't let her eyes linger the way they seem to want to. She'll smile, and laugh, and keep her distance. 

She’s always been good at distance. 

“You know you could have called – _answered_ – sooner.” 

Ava's words cut through the quiet and pull her from her thoughts. Triss blinks for a moment, and then bites her lip. 

“I thought I had it handled.” 

“Is that the reason you avoided my calls?” 

“I – I didn't want to bother you.” 

“ _Bother_ me? How could you possibly think -" 

Ava presses her lips together, abruptly cutting off. After a moment of some sort of deliberation, she lets out a out a harsh exhale, and for all her insistence about not requiring sleep, she sounds unmistakably _tired_. 

“It would never be a bother,” she continues slowly. “The thought of you alone and stuck like this is . . . disconcerting to me. After tonight, I mean.” 

They've reached civilization again, passing Wayhaven’s undisturbed Square and back into familiar territory. Triss represses a sigh, managing a shrug instead. 

“It was a bad idea, sure,” she says weakly. “I tend to have a lot of those, as I'm certain you're well aware.” 

Ava shoots her a look laced with obvious worry. Triss does her best to avoid it. “How are you feeling?” she asks instead of replying. 

“Better. The coat helps.” 

“I was not referring to the cold.” 

They round another corner, and like a lighthouse in a storm she makes out her apartment complex in the dim streetlight. Swallowing down another pang of guilt and hurt and _God-knows-what-else_ , she focuses the last reserves of her energy on a half convincing poker face. 

“You don't need to worry about me,” she offers a smile which is promptly met with a frown. “It's just been one hell of a night. I had a . . . a bad day at work, and then this whole nightmare with Bobby, who _already_ wasn't helping matters when he pulled the whole kissing stunt before -" 

“What?” 

The car comes to a rough halt; conveniently, at least, since Ava had more or less been guiding the car into the parking space outside Triss's complex. She stares at her with an expression as blank and lifeless as a statue, and Triss feels ice that has nothing to do with the temperature begin to flood the valves of her stuttering heart. 

“Oh.” 

She meets the vampire's gaze as casually as she can, before she finally clears her throat. “Yeah. Guess I forgot to mention that part.” 

“He tried to kiss you?” 

“He . . . he _did_ kiss me, actually.” 

Ava looks back at the steering wheel. Then she looks at the dash, then the windows, and then out at the surrounding redbrick buildings on the street. Looks anywhere she can focus on that isn't at Triss. 

“Did you kiss him back?” she asks finally. 

Maybe Triss would have laugh, if things were different. Or maybe she would be disgusted, or annoyed, or offended enough to offer up some reply with as much dripping sarcasm as she could muster.

She goes for silence instead. 

The same familiar thought plays in her head again in the hanging silence, overriding her sense before she can think to repress it. _Maybe I was wrong,_ the small, childish part of her cries. _Maybe I misunderstood, maybe there's still something between us, maybe it would be okay if I just reached over right now and kissed her, and maybe, God, maybe she might even kiss me back._ A flicker of optimism spreads in her heart too quickly to stop it, and so she takes a deep breath, resigning herself to one last futile attempt at hope. 

“Do you really care if I did?” she asks. 

_“But do you have those feelings?”_

Ava's eyes flicker back to hers, her lips pressed into a tight, tense line. When she finally speaks, for voice is cold and flat. 

“No, I do not.” 

_“No, I do not.”_

Triss can only force a smile. There's nothing else that needs to be said. 

“Thank you so much for everything tonight,” she says as she unbuckles her seat belt and steps out into the night. It's still raining, but little more than a light drizzle now. She unwraps herself from the warmth of Ava's coat and places it carefully down on the passenger seat. “You're a lifesaver, seriously. I owe you big time.” 

“Beatrice, I -" 

“Tell the rest of the team I said goodnight. Oh, and let Nate know he doesn't have to look for my jacket anymore.” 

“You don't want to keep the coat?” Ava asks, just as Triss goes to shut the door. “In case it gets cold?” 

Triss regards her, takes in the angle of her tightened jaw and the softened ridge of her brow and the wide eyed confusion mixed with something else in her eyes. Whatever thoughts are playing out behind those lovely eyes, it's not a mystery she’s strong enough to linger on anymore. 

“I have other coats at home, Ava,” she says simply. “Thanks you, though – and again, for the lift. Have a good night, okay? Drive safe.” 

She shuts the door and turns away before she can convince herself to glance at the other woman's expression. Heart in her throat, she walks forwards and doesn't stop until she makes it into the sanctuary of her apartment, slumping back against the door and closing her eyes as it clicks softly shut against her weight. 

When she opens her eyes, she finds them flickering to her eastern window instinctively. Is Ava still there in the carpark, looking up at her window? Is she waiting for Triss to look back? 

She _wants_ to look. It would be the easiest thing in the world to walk up – just a few steps – and pull back the curtains, to give a final wave and a smile and perhaps feel some small degree of closure about the whole thing. It would be so easy to just _look_. 

She sighs, and pushes herself up off the doorframe, slow footfalls leading her to the warm safety of her awaiting bed. 

She doesn't look at the window at all. 

**Author's Note:**

> at always, thank you so much for reading!! hopefully someone out there enjoys this despite the angst :(( happier works will be coming, i promise !
> 
> if you did enjoy, feel free to leave a comment or kudos, otherwise you can read more of my ava work on here or via my tumblr @ lavellane ! thanks so much again !


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